


preamble to hell

by demonmeka



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 23:30:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16128953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonmeka/pseuds/demonmeka
Summary: wrote this @ 3am its very short but im satisfied with it i suppose. havent written in a long while.





	preamble to hell

Will can feel the life being rejected from his body. Every single cell deciding, in a disastrous and painful union, to self destruct. In the moments that it took for Will to tip them off the cliff, the slow, sluggish toppling off their new heights, Hannibal was aware of his actions, what the readjustment of his feet would do, how the weight of his body would send them into hell. Now, in some undefined state, underwater or above, the loose idea of self that one has is being stripped away from Will. It feels like cellophane peeling back, his own conscious mind is so thin compared to the meat of his body. It's thin, it’s like he's a light being diffused from inside his body.  
He sees himself and Hannibal float through the black ocean, consumed by a hungry tide. Everything around them, blood, water, wine, it's all black. They turn it black together. The way his mind and his body overlap, slowly shifting apart, gliding over one another, it makes understanding his surrounding difficult. Will can tell he's underwater, or he is drowning above ground. Floating above his body, it's like a helicopter puttering around over the city at night, his nerves on fire and reaching out, blooming in golden light.  
Something deep beneath his skin reminds him that he had a hand to hold, that a man went into this death with him. He’s alone above his body, but he can find another ghost to guide him back. As he remembers him, he can feel his pulse spasm. There is reason to march on, and his vision fades over this nightmare of dissociation.  
Hours before, the water had seemed like a painting, captured in a natural frame. Now it is a beast, digesting them, gnawing on them till they are nothing but bone. Hannibal had hit the water first, Will knows that much, and even still, he is the one who reaches out first. The hand on his shoulder, guiding him to a stranger place. His head spins, forgetting that singularity he was used to feeling was leaving him. Later, when this hell is past them, they will blend together, somethings about them will stay the same and some will fall away, and they will be whole. The sun and the moon embracing in each other in some unholy end of days.


End file.
